


Be, as you've always been.

by deijis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:28:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deijis/pseuds/deijis
Summary: To Sansa, her daily commute is like passing a book store, filled with an abundance of breathtaking stories of triumph, love, heartbreak and defeat. All the stories anyone could ever imagine, at her fingertips - but one day she finds herself being one of them when she runs into an intriguing stranger on the subway.(A Theonsa one shot, partly inspired by "Someone New" by Hozier.)





	Be, as you've always been.

  
Yet another commute, another wasted 30 minutes taken out of her day. That’s what most people think, but to Sansa, her daily commute is like passing a book store, filled with an abundance of breathtaking stories of triumph, love, heartbreak and defeat. For a long period of time, she brought books with her on her daily commute to her workplace in the center of city, but nowadays she finds that her surroundings tell a much better tale.

After getting onto the train, the stop barely 300 meters from her home, she usually finds herself a spare seat and starts what most people would call _people watching_ , but to her, it is much more than that. Stories unfolding, passing right before her eyes.

Today is no different, and she finds herself next to an old lady, probably around seventy years of age, with a good view of most of the rather crowded subway car.

Straight across the hallway, a young mother sits with her twin daughters, attempting to keep them from running around and possibly bothering anyone. Her eyes look tired, yet she emits such an aura of warmth that Sansa finds herself wondering what her life would be like once (or if) she has children.

_I’d take them on lots of little trips, to the museum and stuff. Play with them in the garden - we’d have a dog, from the shelter, and in summer I’d have to be careful for them not to eat all of the strawberries on our little strawberry patch before I could bake a cake with them._

One of the two girls is looking straight back at her, smiling before waving shyly, and Sansa can’t hide a small smile herself, returning the gesture. _Cute - was I this outgoing when I was young?_   she wonders before her attention is being diverted to a man, about thirty, talking on the phone in such a manner that no one in their part of the subway could possibly not overhear his conversation.

“No, I told you! It was nothing! Hell, had I wanted to cheat on you I would’ve done so long ago!” Bad move, she comments in her mind, lowering her gaze to her phone for a moment as she tries to figure out what exactly could’ve happened there.  
_Maybe he married his college sweetheart but cheated on her with his high school sweetheart? … No, that’s too big of a jump. But he’s married for sure, the ‘long ago’ makes it pretty likely at least._

She pauses when the man rather suddenly stops talking, her glance falling to the ring he’s now fiddling with after hanging up the phone.

 _Married. Maybe he didn’t cheat on her, maybe he did - but he seems to feel guilty at least to some extent. No idea if he has to keep up appearances or genuinely loves her, but this is going to hurt him._ She can almost see his wife, at home, a mixture of anger and disappointment in the air surrounding her, packing either her stuff or throwing his into a few trash bags so he could come and pick it up at the end of the day.

An almost inaudible sigh leaves her as she watches him take off the wedding band, wondering if things would ultimately really lead to him never putting it on again. She’s curious like that, and part of her is bothered by the fact she’ll never find out how this story will end, unless she happens to run into him on her daily commute yet again.

Love has never been kind to her, at least not so far, and Sansa finds herself wondering if one day she is going to be in a similar situation, on either side of that conversation, watching part of her life change completely. Is she ever going to get married? Even go on more than one date with a single person?

She’s aware she can only blame herself for the fact that she falls in love with the idea of a person and not with the person themselves, but she’s always been this way. Imagining people’s lives, dreaming about what they could possibly be like, how it’d be like to grow old with them. And she always ends up disappointed, heartbroken because the idea, the imagination she has doesn’t correspond to reality. Her friends keep telling her to simply force herself to stop _overthinking_ things, but doing so seems impossible to her.

Another stop, and the old lady next to her decides to get off the train here, leaving Sansa with thoughts of where she was going. _Visiting grandchildren? Having coffee with a friend? What’s her life been like so far? What has she witnessed?_

Some will argue she’s living through others, and Sansa can’t argue with that. For most of her time, she’s stuck in her office, at a boring desk job she has never wanted but needs in order to pay the bills. Ever since she graduated from college, her life is uneventful - she knows it doesn’t have to be like that, but not having her old friends around makes socializing so _exhausting_. Meanwhile, dreaming about what ifs and thinking about possibilities had something cathartic, even if she never does anything to truly give these possibilities a chance, sabotaging herself with her expectations, the realization that ultimately things will most likely never be the way she pictures them in her head.

  
She’s lost in her thoughts about a young couple that sits down at the other end of the subway car when she notices a man sitting down next to her, a book in his hands and a messenger bag in his lap now that he’s seated.

He’s probably around her age, though she can’t tell as she can barely see his face, the sides partly obscured by slightly wavy, brown hair, and soon her focus returns to the piece of literature - a book she read in college once, and in high school before that.  
_“The Picture of Dorian Gray?”_  

Sansa at first doesn’t realize that she’s actually spoken up, too lost in her analysis of the man next to her and what the book he’s reading tells her about him.

“You’ve read it? A friend recommended it to me, says a lot, doesn’t it?” A friendly voice responds and Sansa glances up at him to see he has turned to face her, a questioning depth in his light blue eyes.

 _Did I just say that out loud? Oh fuck._ She makes a mental note to glue her mouth shut from now on, trying to get the surprised look off her face, but somehow it won’t go away. “Uh … yeah, in my first year of college,” she responds, not mentioning that that had been one of three re-reads, trying to figure out what else to say. _I can’t really tell him that reading that book makes me think he’s brooding and cynical, thinks too much about things and probably wonders about whether any of the people around him could identify with the titular character. Or at least I shouldn’t. I could say his friend might think that way though?_

“And well, I’m going to go out on a limb and assume your friend thinks of you as someone who claims to not care about his looks but actually does, a Dorian Gray in denial, maybe? Subconsciously? Who knows. Probably also thinks you’re brooding and cynical, also an overthinker by design.”  
_That was almost offensive,_ she mentally scolds herself, though part of her mind is too occupied with taking in everything about the young man in front of her, attempting to build an imaginary life for him, the life he currently has and the one he might have one day. He’s undoubtedly handsome, but not without flaws, making his face quite memorable in her opinion. His outfit doesn’t give much away - _sadly_ , she thinks - as it consists of a plain buttoned shirt and a pair of black trousers. _Office job._

“You know, I’m just slightly offended,” she hears him say, realizing his voice is too soft to fit into her idea of a cynical guy. “Or well, I would be, but I think you’re guilty of one of the things you mentioned, being an overthinker. You seem like the kind of person who mostly lives in her head to escape her imperfect life whilst struggling with the inherent existential nihilism she faces. Now, that was offensive, I’d say, so you don’t have to feel guilty about making assumptions. Doubt I’m right though, just like you aren’t.”

 _That’s unexpected, but in the best of ways,_ she thinks, unable to hold back a soft laugh. She tries not to let it get to her that he’s mostly right, but she wonders if she has actually found someone better at her _thing_ than she herself was.  
“Thank you, I guess. For making me feel less guilty or something. And you’re quite right actually, but then again who isn’t an overthinker in today’s day and age? Can we really not be, considering how most of our life consists of being rated in a way, be in by Facebook likes or dating app matches? We assign meaning to irrelevant things because we can’t seem to find an actual reason for our own existence. Maybe a _sprinkle_ of nihilism is part of the human condition, don’t you think so?”

It is then that she realizes her stop is up next, slightly upset that she already has to end this conversation that would’ve probably gone on to be quite interesting. Nevertheless, she listens attentively as the male next to her gets up as if he was going to get off at this stop as well, and Sansa can’t help but raise her eyebrow in surprise. _Coincidences_.

“I agree, to an extent,” he then responds, equally as surprised when Sansa gets onto her feet as well, though he soon resumes sharing his train of thought. “But just because a lot of things push us towards such a way of thinking, doesn’t mean we should. Why let something we’ve created control us? And if life has no meaning, why bother fitting into a mold beyond the one that is necessary for survival? Sure, you probably need a job, but beyond that, why bother doing anything but what you love in your free time, you feel me?”

 _Hopeless romantic_ , she corrects her earlier observations that were just based on the book, and she finds herself _liking_ that idea. “I suppose so. But we love praise and a feeling of belonging, don’t we?”

“Oh, I would know,” he’s quick to respond as they coincidentally find themselves heading into the same direction, and Sansa wonders what kind of job the man next to her held - _a journalist, maybe? Writing for a newspaper?_  
“How so?” The words leave her lips before she assesses whether they are actually appropriate, and she finds herself regretting them almost immediately, even though her bluntness has so far not driven _… what’s his name? …_ away.

“I’m Sansa by the way,” she then offers her name to the stranger as if to offer a certain extent of trustworthiness, hoping it will get him to reveal a little bit more about him. She’s curious, the information on the tip of his tongue so tempting to her. She doesn’t even realize she’s so focused on what he will say that she doesn’t bother wondering about what he _could_ possibly say.

“Sansa, pleasure. Theon’s the name. And oh, problematic relationship with my father, nothing you haven’t heard before, I am sure of that.”

 _Strained relationship with his parents,_  she notes to herself, heading out of the station and taking a left, glancing back at him only to see him head the same way as her. “So, where you’re heading? Like, where do you work, if I may ask?” Part of her is being curious, another part of her just wants to make sure he isn’t following her, even though she doesn’t feel threatened by him at this very moment.

“Lannister Industries, started there two days ago. Not a particularly exciting job, but it pays for my hobbies so I’ll do it until I find something I like more.”

_Lannister Industries? Not unlikely, a big company after all._

“Oh, you too? I’ve been there for a year. In Accounting,” she explains, quick steps leading her towards the skyscraper that houses the headquarters of Lannister Industries. “Plenty of time to think about life whilst on the job, I suppose that’s why I love overanalyzing people.”

“Are you analyzing me as well, Sansa?” he questions her, and she finds herself regretting her confession regarding one of her favorite ways to pass the time.

“I do it to everyone I meet, I suppose. Even those I don’t meet, sometimes I find myself wondering about the people I see on the train, what their life is like, or, if they’re attractive to me, what my life would be like by their side - would it be good? Bad? Would we be compatible? That kind of stuff.” She figures there’s no point in lying considering it is highly unlikely they’ll run into each other again, with the company being this big and the subway usually being rather crowded.

Then again, she finds herself wondering if running into Theon again would be such a bad thing.

“I used to be like that,” Theon says as they enter the building, and Sansa thinks she sees a hint of regret in his eyes when he faces her for a moment. “Ruined a lot of things. You meet someone, you think about how it’d be like to wake up next to them, that’s reasonable I suppose, but I was busy planning out everything even before I had gone on a date with the girl. Took a while to figure out that that wasn’t healthy, but now I just tell myself to do things and see what happens, you know?”

She catches herself thinking _we’re too similar_ , only to question why that is an issue seconds later, realizing just how intriguing Theon is to her. Is there more to him than the things she deduces from the more obvious things he has confessed so far, or is he just as one-dimensional as a character in a boring romance novel?

“I guess you’re right,” she mumbles before realizing he was turning to head into a different direction, to a different elevator. “Hey,” she stops him, and he turns around as if he has been waiting for her to speak up.

“Theon, do you want to have lunch together today? At around 12.30? Maybe at the little sushi place down the street? Going there alone is so boring,” she suggests, already prepared to be turned down, after all they’re barely more than strangers.  
“Sure, I’d love that. Just don’t imagine too much about my life in the meantime, hm? Doubt I could top those expectations.” And with those words he disappears into the elevator, leaving Sansa in the building’s lobby, realizing what she just did.

She can’t remember the last time she was this intrigued by a mere stranger, and she doesn’t even bother thinking too much about what Theon could probably do in his freetime, what his favorite color is, or _what it would be like to wake up next to him._

 _I don’t have to,_ she tells herself as she now steps into the elevator that would take her to her office.

  
**_I’m sure I’ll find out in time._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> This is the first thing I've posted (and written, I guess) in years, so it's probably pretty messy and all over the place, sorry about that.


End file.
